


From Station to Station, Back to Düsseldorf City

by shessocold



Category: David Bowie (Musician), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Rolling Stones
Genre: Chance Meetings, Developing Friendships, Disguised Celebrities, Drabble, Established Relationship, Holidays, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Metamorphmagus David Bowie, Muggle Mick Jagger, Muggle/Wizard Relations, One Shot, Post-Hogwarts, Rock Stars, Rock and Roll, Short One Shot, Teenage Dorks, Travel, Wizard David Bowie, rs24hrchallenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 06:24:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13564710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shessocold/pseuds/shessocold
Summary: Mick knows how excited David gets about running into people from his old school.





	From Station to Station, Back to Düsseldorf City

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Remember that time when...
> 
> Further challenges: include a side pairing of your choice and/or an outsider's POV (writers), an unusual angle/composition (artists).
> 
> \---  
> I took the "outsider's POV" thing AND I RAN WITH IT, lol.

The boys sitting at the table next to theirs are quite obviously British and they look about the right age to be their fans – or fans of David's, at least, amends Mick with a mental sigh. The fact that the two aren't paying them any attention at all means that their disguises are working, then. Good. He shouldn't have worried. David is brilliant about this sort of things.

“You must try one of these,” urges David, his mouth full, pointing at the pastries that came with their coffees. Mick smiles. It's always thrilling to see David show more than a perfunctory interest in food. He makes a mental note to ask the waitress for a few more pastries, to bring back to their hotel room. 

Suddenly, from the table next to theirs, an eruption of laughter so boisterous that Mick spills a bit of his coffee. David grins. 

“Young people these days, eh?” he says, an amused twinkle in his uncharacteristically matching eyes. “No manners at all.” 

Mick rolls his eyes, but he grins back. He'll be thirty-five in July. David is thirty-one. Despite the blatant absurdity of David's remarks – they hardly have the same kind of life their parents had when they were around their ages, obviously – it's true that there are more and more things about teenagers and the way they act that both baffle and annoy them, these days. The boys at the other table can't be more than twenty, and they certainly act like it. 

“Remember that time when James managed to slip a Filibuster Wet-Start Firework into Snivellus' cauldron?” says one of them (long-ish dark hair, pale, pretty good looking), wiping tears of laughter from his face. “He ended up having to stay behind and pickle a barrell of toad brains by hand, poor Prongs. He couldn't get the smell out for days and days. I don't think I've ever seen Slughorn quite so mad.” 

David's head whips round. 

“Excuse me," he says, turning on his chair to face the boys. Mick, a bit baffled, wonders if he's going to take his 'grumpy old geezer' act far enough to actually tell the boys off for being too loud. “Did you say _Slughorn_?” 

“Yeah,” confirms the boy who was telling the little story about toads and cauldrons, in a cautious voice. It sounds to Mick like the possibility that other people could exist in his close promixity who also speak English hadn't occured to him until that very moment. He looks uneasy. “Why?” 

David laughs. 

“Well, the place has really gone downhill, then, hasn't it? In my day, we used to stick people to the dungeon's ceiling and good old Sluggy wouldn't bat an eye, as long as you kept your grades up and his candied pineapple stocks at a comfortable level. To be fair, tilting his head back to actually check the ceiling for errant students is probably too much of a hassle for him, so maybe _that's_ why we got away with it.” 

The boy blinks, astonished. His friend (curly hair, sligthly tan, nasty scar on his cheek) turns around, and he also stares at David as if David had suddenly sprouted a second head. _I wonder if he could_ , thinks Mick, amused. _I must remember to ask him._

“Hippogriff got your tongue?” asks David. Mick can hear the grin in his voice. 

“I'm sorry, I just need a moment to get over the fact that we never thought of sticking anyone to any ceiling,” says the dark-haired boy, looking genuinely wistful. “And now the chance is gone.” 

David laughs again. 

“So you're done with your newts, then?” 

Mick is confused for a second, but then he remembers. _N.E.W.T.s_ – wizarding A-levels. 

The boy nods. 

“This trip is our graduation present. Moony here really wanted to travel a bit before we, er, have to start thinking about our future,” he says, glancing sideways at his friend. Something in his tone makes Mick wonder whether the boy knows, or rather simply hopes, that his and his friend's future will be a shared one. “And he's very fond of obscure German literature, so this is pretty much Heaven for him. Do you live here in Düsseldorf?” 

“We don't, no,” says David. “I live in Berlin. Mick thought I needed a holiday, so here we are. I'm David, by the way. Why don't you join us? It's not everyday that I get to meet people fresh from Hogwarts, I want to hear all the news.” 

** 

“So, what's your last name?” asks the dark-haired boy (Sirius). “I have a few older cousins, they might have been in your year. Or maybe we know someone from your family! What House were you in? We were both in Gryffindor.” 

David catches Mick's gaze. Mick smiles and nods slightly. He's curious to see how David is going to go about it. 

“It's Jones,” says David. “I was in Ravenclaw, and I don't think you'd know any of my relatives from school, because I'm Muggle-born. But – and you'll have to forgive me, there just isn't a way to say this without sounding obnoxious – you might know me from, er, what I do for a living. Let me show you.” 

And with this he briefly screws up his eyes, and his disguised features return to their usual, handsome state. Mick has watched him do the exact same thing at least a hundred times, but it still makes his heart flutter in a very pleasant way. He checks the boys' reactions. 

Sirius is left utterly and completely stunned. His friend (Remus) looks at him, then at David, then back at Sirius again, and snorts with repressed laughter. The waitress, who's passing by on her way to another table, does a double take. Mick grins. 

“Do me now,” he says. “Quick. I want to see what the waitress makes of it on her way back.” 

David makes sure that nobody is looking at them, and then he discreetly whips out his wand and undoes the charms he's used to alter Mick's appearance before they headed out in the morning. 

Sirius and Remus quite literally gasp. David laughs. 

“Are you a wizard too?” asks Remus, staring at Mick. “My cousin Karen is _crazy_ about you. Oh, she'd kill me if she knew I just randomly bumped into you. I can't wait to tell her.” 

“I'm afraid I'm not,” says Mick, pleased with the effect his little stunt had. “While you lot were busy sticking people to the ceiling and, er, pickling toad brains, I went to the London School of Economics. It's much more convenient to get David to do my bidding, anyway. Don't you agree, David, dear?” 

David gives him a look that makes Mick suddenly wish they were quite alone, amusing as the two teenagers' company has been. 

“Don't push your luck, Jagger,” he says, and he winks.

**Author's Note:**

> ... of course Bowie was a Metamorphmagus.


End file.
